


[ SAVE ]

by meetah12



Series: [ FIGHT ]  [ ACT ]  [ ITEM ]  [ MERCY ] [1]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Frisk is Nonbinary, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Nonbinary Character, One Shot Collection, Other Characters TBA - Freeform, Post-Canon, Undertale Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-24
Updated: 2015-10-24
Packaged: 2018-04-26 14:46:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5008759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meetah12/pseuds/meetah12
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's been twenty years since Frisk's semi-dead best friend destroyed the barrier and then turned back into a flower. For twenty years, they've been growing those yellow flowers. For twenty years, they've been trying to find a way to vocalize the feelings deep within about that whole ordeal. </p><p>Today, an old friend shows back up. </p><p>And all those rehearsals go straight to hell.</p>
            </blockquote>





	[ SAVE ]

**Author's Note:**

> Me: I haven't written fanfiction in like a year and a half.  
> Me: I am filled with determination.

As ambassador between the humans and the monsters, Frisk was constantly busy. It seemed everywhere they walked, people and monsters alike were stopping them and asking them for help with a new problem. The days stretched out as they ran around a tried to help everyone get along, and Frisk found themselves waiting with bated breath for that moment when they would finally see their house cresting over the hill. They breathed a sigh of relief as they thought of the weekend ahead of them. Finally; time to themselves.

The winter chill had forced its way into Frisk’s bones as they trudged up the hill towards their home. It had only seemed right, after everything that happened, to move their home to the top of Mount Ebott. The trek itself was harrowing, which was a sort of blessing, especially when a few monsters and humans apparently didn’t know the meaning of ‘work hours’ and seemingly ignored the sign in front of the property that declared it ‘private’.

The small white house came into view, and Frisk sped up. They pushed open the white picket fence and stepped carefully towards the yellow door. Fumbling with their keys, Frisk huffed and tried to calm themselves down. Their hands were shaking so badly that the key was dancing around the keyhole. With a determined frown, Frisk jabbed the key directly at the lock. With a smile of success, they pushed open the door and closed it behind them against the freezing winds.

Frisk stepped inside and hung their scarf up on the coat rack by the door. After a moments hesitation, they headed over to the window and gazed outside. Through the snow and the wind, they could see their greenhouse. The yellow flowers inside looked happy enough from here, but Frisk couldn’t be sure. With a sigh, they walked over towards the back door and opened it quickly. They cowered beneath the cold winds and quickly approached the greenhouse.

With a shiver, they entered the warm misty interior and looked around. The flowers seemed happy enough, Frisk supposed. They stepped around a few of the larger yellow flowers resting on the ground and spotted a quite dejected looking one almost falling out of its pot.

As Frisk bent down to straighten up the drooping flower, they registered movement out of the corner of their eyes. Fighting the urge to look, Frisk continued down the line of flowers. They checked each one for any issues or injuries. It seemed like the greenhouse was doing its job. Frisk gazed out of the windows and into the snowstorm outside.

They bent back down to pick up the watering can. Sprinkling a few drops on each of the flower, Frisk allowed the soft sound of the water pattering down the petals of the flowers to drown out the howling winds outside.

A dash of yellow made them pause, and with a sigh, Frisk looked over to where it had originated. They gazed out over the swathe of yellow flowers and tried to keep their face frown pulling into a disappointed frown. As they finished with the flowers and put the watering can away, Frisk could hear the scuttling noise start up again.

Frowning to themselves and rolling their eyes, they headed back towards the door. Frisk stepped back out into the snowstorm and shut the door tightly behind themselves. They struggled back to the house and collapsed against the door.

After a few seconds, they sighed and went to get some coffee.

* * *

Frisk was sitting quite comfortably on their soft couch in front of a warm and roaring fire. The mug of coffee in their hands sent pleasant waves of warmth up their arms. Frisk lifted the cup to their lips and took a long sip. They smiled. Butterscotch and Cinnamon coffee. Sniffing the air, Frisk sat back into the cushions. The scent alone reminded them of their beloved adopted mother. Frisk felt a pang as they thought about Toriel. They should really give her a call.

The sound of glass breaking shattered the warm haze around Frisk. They shot up in alarm and looked around wildly, trying to see where the noise was coming from. Frisk stood up and glanced at all of the windows in the house. Nothing seemed to be broken, and they couldn’t feel any telltale cold air rushing in. As they were about to sit back down and pass the noise off as overactive imagination, an idea hit them.

The greenhouse.

“Fuck,” Frisk whispered, standing up quickly.

They ran to the window and stared out at the greenhouse. The flowers inside were shaking from the force of the winds blowing in through the gaping hole. A large tree branch was resting in the greenhouse almost innocently. It must had ripped off of one of the trees above the property. Frisk let their head hit the window with a thump. Cursing under their breath, Frisk darted over to the back door and pulled on their shoes. Forgoing the coat in favor of getting to the flowers as quickly as possible, Frisk opened the door and ran out into the snow.

The cold slammed into their chest like a hammer, and they almost turned back around to grab their coat again. But they pushed through it and reached the door of the greenhouse. Pulling it open, Frisk stumbled inside and stared around in disbelief.

Many of the golden flowers had fallen from their perches, and Frisk felt a brief stab of pain in their gut from the sight. Huffing with determination, Frisk pulled the wagon out from beneath the nearest flower covered table and began to try and save as many of the golden prizes as possible.

After all, they didn’t hand grow all of these over a span of twenty years to lose them because of a single snowstorm. Frisk sighed as the wagon became full and quickly ran off to drop the flowers off inside the house. They sat them on the table haphazardly and quickly rushed back outside. It took five trips for the greenhouse to almost be empty. Frisk stepped over the sad remains of a few flowers that didn’t make it and glanced around the greenhouse. There was still room on the wagon for a few more flowers.

They kept their eyes peeled for any signs of movement and yet couldn’t seem to see anything past the snowflakes flitting every which way. Frisk was about to turn away when they noticed a small golden flower hiding beneath the table in the corner. They rolled their eyes and stepped closer to it. Frisk ducked under the large tree branch that had crushed a portion of the greenhouse and drew closer. Their boots crushed the glass beneath their feet, and Frisk paused as they noticed the flower seemingly draw into itself.

The image of a golden flower filled their mind, and for a moment Frisk almost considered turning back and returning to their house. And yet they shook that idea off and stepped ever closer. They picked up the pair of pruning shears off of the table just in case.

It wasn’t like they were oblivious. They had fought and befriended countless monsters a countless number of times and had survived many battles. They had survived everything, with only maybe a few trip ups. With these sort of reflexes, it was very difficult to miss the constant movement on the edges of their vision. Frisk had known right away what- or who- it had to be. They had laid a careful trap, after all. Twenty years spent growing those bright yellow flowers from the underground. Twenty years building their house right up against that fateful hole. Twenty years building those damned stairs back down to the original patch of flowers.

Frisk eyed the flower carefully. They let out a sigh. Then, they stepped closer. Each step seemed to make the flower droop more and more until it was seemingly wilted. Frisk’s feet were within a foot of the flower when they finally stopped.

The flower slowly turned to look up at Frisk.

For the first time in twenty years, Frisk and Asriel met gazes. Frisk mentally shook themselves. They weren’t certain which one of them had returned, after all. Until they knew for certain, they had to presume that this was Flowey. The weight of the pruning shears in their hands gave them a sense of comfort.

A grim smile stretched across the face of the Flowey. His eyes were drawn to the pruning shears in Frisk’s hands. After a second, Flowey let out a cackle. Frisk flinched at the sound. After twenty years it was still just as disconcerting. They held the shears tightly and glared at Flowey.

“So,” Flowey drawled, “You missed me so much that you decided to devote and entire greenhouse to me?”

Frisk stepped forwards. Flowey froze, and for a moment Frisk could have sworn that fear flickered across his face. Frisk watched in interest as Flowey’s roots dragged themselves out of the shallow dirt and began to slowly back away. They had never seen Flowey move- well, at least not in this form. As the image of that eldritch abomination they had fought filled their mind, Frisk shivered.

Frisk glanced out of the window at the snowstorm still billowing outside and then looked back down at Flowey.

“Still as talkative as ever, eh?” Flowey said.

His voice wobbled slightly on the end, and Frisk felt their stomach tie into knots.

“I-I’ll tell you what,” Flowey announced, “How about I just leave? Hm? No harm, no foul.”

Flowey’s gaze turned to the snowstorm outside and he grimaced. Frisk cocked their head to the side and eyed Flowey carefully. Flowey hadn’t made any move to defend himself with magic yet, despite his obvious discomfort and fear.

“I’ll just pack up my roots and walk on out of here, then,” Flowey said, turning away.

Frisk panicked and reached out blindly. They managed to somehow grasp onto Flowey’s stem before he could abscond. Flowey began struggling almost immediately as Frisk raised him to eye level. Frisk could see the panic setting in in Flowey’s eyes. With slight hesitation, Frisk raised the shears up. Flowey’s face transformed into one full of panic.

“N-no,” He whimpered, “I-I won’t get in your way! I can be useful!”

A sense of déjà vu slammed into Frisk but they ignored it as they pointedly laid the shears down on the nearby table. The words that Flowey had blurted out in fear had made a portion of Frisk’s soul recoil. They shook of the unsettling feeling deep inside and sighed. Flowey stopped his blubbering and eyed the shears in fear as Frisk turned away and began to head back inside. He stayed silent as Frisk grabbed the handle of the wagon and walked towards the house once more.

They stepped out into the bitter storm and tried to ignore Flowey’s shaking. When they finally reached the door, Frisk opened the door and carelessly stepped inside, ignoring the snow their boots tracked in. They pulled the wagon in through the door behind them and shut it with a click.

Eyeing Flowey carefully, Frisk sat him down on the kitchen table amongst the other rescued flowers. He slumped down and sat quietly as Frisk eyed all of the flowers carefully. They eyed one that was particularly injured by the snow and sighed. As Flowey watched in confusion, Frisk pulled the bent and broken yellow flower out of the pot. They eyed it in sympathy and tossed it into the wagon. Then, they reached over and grabbed Flowey once more.

He no longer struggled as Frisk sat him in the now vacant flower pot and covered his roots with soil. He stared at Frisk with distrust as they picked up the flower pot and placed it on the coffee table in front of the fire.

Then, Frisk stood back up and walked off. Flowey stared at the fire in front of him with fear. He no longer had to power to save or reset, and anything could be a potential danger to his life. He thought back to the pruning shears and shivered.

Frisk stepped out from the room they had been in and stepped up behind Flowey. As he turned in his pot to say something, a warm material smothered his voice. As he struggled to get rid of the suffocating material, he swore he could hear Frisk laughing.

And then the material had moved around his stem. Flowey looked down at the scarf wound around his body and felt confusion. It was somewhat comforting, with its green and yellow stripes. Frisk stared at him and his new scarf for a few seconds in something akin to sadness and then sat down on the couch and stared at Flowey.

Flowey squirmed under their gaze as time stretched on. After what felt like hours, Frisk opened their mouth.

“How long had you been in my greenhouse?” They asked.

For a moment, Flowey was stunned by the fact that Frisk was talking to him at all. Then, he felt worry grow inside.

“N-not too long,” He said, trying to put on a reassuring smile, “Just a week or so?”

Frisk hummed and let the silence rein once more. Flowey sat awkwardly in his pot and waited for Frisk to say something else. After a few minutes of silence, Frisk spoke.

“Asriel,” They said.

Flowey felt as though someone had twisted his stem. The name hurt somewhere deep inside of his chloroplasts. He let an evil grin cross onto his face and he struggled against the soil to raise himself even with Frisk’s eyes.

“Asriel isn’t here,” Flowey hissed, smiling at the shiver that passed through Frisk.

Frisk sat still and refused to look at Flowey. Sighing, Flowey lowered himself back down and tried not to let his exhaustion show. Frisk stood up from the couch without a word and walked to the kitchen.

They let their coffee drip out into the sink and down the drain and they tried to get their thoughts in order. Frisk shook their head as they tried to sort out exactly what they had done.

They could very easily imagine the reactions of everyone else. Toriel would probably be the most understanding of them all, other than Papyrus. Toriel had taken them in, after all. Frisk sighed. Toriel had taken them in despite the dangers. She had known how the others humans had all turned out, for better or worse.

Frisk should call someone. They knew it deep in their soul. They should call Sans to deal with this problem. Lord knows Flowey wouldn’t be an issue for him, especially without his save and load powers. Frisk blinked and flexed their fingers.

If they wanted to kill Flowey, they didn’t even need to call Sans. Flowey was powerless in his current form. Frisk frowned and wondered what to do with him. They sat the mug down in the sink and stepped back into the living room.

Flowey was sitting in his pot dejectedly, his yellow petals drooping. Frisk looked from him to the snowstorm outside. Even without a soul, Flowey could die. And from what Frisk knew about flowers… They gazed at their destroyed greenhouse outside and sighed. If Flowey went outside into the snowstorm, then he’d certainly freeze his petals off.

Frisk yawned. They passed a hand through their hair and sighed. They couldn’t just go to sleep and leave Flowey out in the living room. Who knew what he could do while they were unconscious.

Sleepily, Frisk stepped forward and picked up Flowey’s pot. Flowey jolted and stared up at Frisk as they carried them off to another room. Flowey was glancing around quickly as Frisk carried them away. He seemed almost frightened by the trip.

Frisk opened up the door to their bathroom and stepped inside. Glancing over the room, they sighed and headed for the shower. The glass walls of the shower should keep Flowey out of trouble, theoretically. With only slight hesitation, Frisk sat Flowey and his pot down in the shower and shut the door to the shower. Flowey glanced around and then looked up at Frisk.

“Wh-”

“I’m going to sleep now,” Frisk interrupted, “You’re going to stay in there.”

Flowey’s mouth dropped open as Frisk waved goodbye and stepped back out through the bathroom door.

* * *

When Frisk blearily stepped into the bathroom the next morning, they had completely forgotten about Flowey and last night. As they stepped up to the toilet and were about to pull down their pants, they remembered.

Almost jumping out of their skin, Frisk turned around and glared at Flowey.

Flowey looked up at Frisk with annoyance. All last night he had been trying to come up with some way to escape this new prison he found himself in. And yet, it appeared his vines weren’t very useful for sliding glass shower doors. He eventually gave up and slipped into some semblance of sleep. When he had awoken, he found himself even more tangled in the scarf that Frisk had left him with.

Frisk shook their head and opened the door to the shower. They picked up Flowey and quickly took him back out to the coffee table. Frisk set him down and pointed warningly as if to say ‘don’t move’. Flowey stared as Frisk went back into the bathroom.

He looked around the room as Frisk did whatever it was they needed to do. His eyes landed on the yellow flowers scattered over every flat surface in the kitchen. He frowned. Frisk must have come down underground and stolen a few of the golden flowers from one of the patches. They were almost certainly the same species.

Flowey tried to make sense of Frisk as he waited for them to exit the bathroom. Nothing they did was simple. They had built this small house out on a mountain, far away from everyone else. They must have made the trek down to the Underground and taken a few flowers. And for what purpose? Just to have them? Flowey frowned.

The door to the bathroom opened again and cut off his musings. Frisk eyed him blearily and then headed back into their bedroom. Flowey waited for a few minutes. He felt a small amount of trepidation at Frisk’s movements. Fear flickered through him like a flame, as he tried to come to terms with exactly how helpless he really was.

Frisk exited their bedroom fully clothed in a pair of jeans and a plain striped shirt. They ran a hand through their messy hair and walked into the kitchen. Flowey could hear some beeping noises, and then the noise of a mug being sat on the counter. After a few moments, the sound of water running could be heard, and the house filled with the scent of Butterscotch and Cinnamon.

Something inside of Flowey flinched at the scent. It was beautiful, but it brought with it happy memories that had turned heartbreaking in light of everything that had happened. Frisk stepped out into the living room and sat down with their coffee. The two sat in silence as Frisk drank.

The sound of a phone ringing broke the silence. Frisk quickly patted their pockets and pulled out an old looking phone. Scratches covered almost every inch. Frisk pressed a button and raised the phone to their ear.

“Yeah?”

Flowey could just barely make out the distorted voice of someone else on the other end of the line. Frisk nodded, despite the fact that the person on the other end of the line couldn’t see them.

“Sorry, yeah,” Frisk ran a hand through their hair, “Sans, I don’t think I’ll be able to go out for lunch with you today.”

Flowey tried to hear the response from the person on the other end but it seemed more hushed. Frisk shook their head and stood up. They began to pace irritatingly.

“No, Sans, it’s not them. It’s, well,” Frisk looked at Flowey and sighed, “It’s something else. Something I’ll deal with.”

Frisk nodded and smiled, “Yeah, talk to you later too. See you.”

They hung the phone up with a beep and tossed it carelessly on the couch. Groaning, Frisk let themselves fall limply onto the cushions and sit there. Flowey watched silently as Frisk didn’t move. Then, they sat back up and stared at Flowey. The two of them stared each other down and let the silence linger for a few moments longer.

“W-well?” Flowey finally asked, “What are you going to do to me now? Toss me out into the snow? Burn me in the fire? Drown me? Slice me to bits?”

Frisk shook their head and stared off at a spot on the wall past Flowey’s head. Flowey breathed heavily from fear and exertion. He felt the unbearable urge to scream and rage at Frisk. If he still had his powers, he most likely would have tried to attack them by now. And yet, he was powerless. He opened his mouth to begin yelling at Frisk again but they cut him off.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” Frisk said quietly, “If I wanted you dead I would have let your stem freeze last night out there in that snowstorm.”

“Why are you doing this?” Flowey asked quietly.

Frisk frowned and stared down at their hands. They didn’t seem to know the answer to Flowey’s question.

“I’m not Asriel. You should know that,” Flowey hissed, “I don’t have a soul, I can’t _feel_ anything. Nothing you do will change that. Don’t think that you can spare me at the end of this.”

“I’ve spared you before,” Frisk whispered.

“And you’ve killed me too,” Flowey replied.

Silence stretched, lengthy and unwieldy, between the two of them. Frisk chewed on their bottom lip and sighed.

“You claim to not be able to feel anything and yet you clearly feel fear,” Frisk said, “Hatred is also an emotion. And I know for a fact that people with souls can do terrible things too. If you don’t need to be soulless to be cruel, why should you need a soul to be kind?”

“That’s not how it works,” Flowey muttered.

Frisk rolled their eyes and stood up.

“I’ll get you some water,” They said as they walked into the kitchen.

Flowey watched them go and tried to ignore the feelings blossoming within himself. He wasn’t sure whether the emotion was fear or hope.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> This is going to basically (probably) be an cluster of a bunch of semi-connected one shots. But idk how many. I could only add one more chapter. I could add 20. I probably won't but you never know.
> 
> I might go back and revise this chapter some too, but I just want it posted right now. 
> 
> If you see any mistakes, or want to request prompts, feel free to comment below! Please no NSFW prompts, and no shippy prompts. Thank.


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